


Today is not a good day to be Matthew Casey

by ElineHasAllTheFeels



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: But a dumbass we all love, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I am sorry for making him feel bad but also not at all, Like seriously Casey is a dumbass, One Chicago (Chicago Franchise), One Shot, Selfless Casey, Sickfic, Whump, caring!severide, h/c, sick, sick!Casey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElineHasAllTheFeels/pseuds/ElineHasAllTheFeels
Summary: Casey and Severide get into an argument at an accident scene. Severide is sure he knows better, Casey is annoyed and pulls rank. He is really not up for Severide's drama today, as he is already feeling bad enough. His head is killing him, it's way too hot, and he feels like he's going to throw up any minute now. And why is the room spinning? Can Severide put his pride aside and help one very sick Matthew Casey, or will he leave his roommate to his own devices?
Relationships: Matthew Casey & Kelly Severide
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Today is not a good day to be Matthew Casey

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This is my second story in this fandom, but as I started writing this before 'Am I unworthy of love?' this is technically my first. I really appreciate your response to 'Am I unworthy of love?', and that fully is what motivated me to finish this story. I've always had a weakness for hurt/comfort and a good ol' sickfic, so I just had to do it to our favourite captain. I'm sorry? But also not? Haha. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and do let me know what you'd like to see from me next! I have some plans for a Herrmann-centered fic, but I'm always interested in prompts!

Today is not a good day to be Matthew Casey.

‘Otis! That was an illegal turn.’  
  
‘Was not!’  
  
‘Yes it was! It’s almost as if you haven’t driven a day in your life. If you ask me, we should consider letting someone else drive. How do you feel about this, Mouch?’  
  
‘Leave me out of this, I don’t want no trouble.’  
  
‘Nobody asked you, Kidd.’  
  
‘Oh, isn’t this just grand? Are we not a family in this house? And aren’t families supposed to listen to each other, support one another’s opinions?’  
  
‘Not if they’re full of---’  
  
‘Will everyone just SHUT UP?!’  
  
Caseys voice booms through the cab, effectively shutting everyone up.  
  
‘I’m sorry, Captain, I…’  
  
One look from Casey is enough to make even Stella Kidd stop talking. Otis shifts in his seat, clearly about to say something himself too, but he holds back. Deciding to wisely ignore it, Casey stares out the window instead.  
  
It wasn’t surprising that his team was acting this jovial, if he was being fair. The call they’d just had hadn’t been a bad one. Hell, they’d even managed to get every victim out relatively unscathed. So what exactly had gone wrong, even he wasn’t sure about.

It had been a regular “car crash leaving victims stuck inside” situation. At this point, you could almost call it routine. A truck hadn’t secured his load tightly enough and a metal beam went rolling, causing the car behind it to crash. With Squad being first on the scene, but Boden having stayed behind, it was only natural that Casey would take the lead. He was captain, after all.

Severide and Cruz had already gotten started on the driver side door, trying to ply it open with the jaws. The driver was alert, looking around him and trying to figure out what exactly had happened. The man in the passenger seat was, however, not moving.

‘Squad! Move to the passenger side,’ Casey had barked by way of greeting.

Severide hadn’t even looked up from his work, too focussed on getting the door open. ‘No can do, Casey. It will take forever, that door is busted way worse than this one.’

‘So is the victim. Get to the other side.’

At this, Severide did look up. He had that incredulous look in his eyes with that one slightly raised eyebrow, his trademark “You better be joking” face. Unfortunately for Severide, Casey was anything but.

‘We’re almost through. We can just pry this door open, get the driver out, and scoot over to the passenger.’

‘Severide, I am not going to say this again. Passenger side. That’s an order.’

When he saw Severides walls coming up, almost like a physical barrier, Casey had wondered for a second whether he had gone too far. No matter how long he’d been captain, it still felt weird to pull rank with someone he’d considered to be his equal for so long. But that had ended with his promotion, and it was just something Severide should be getting to terms with himself instead of taking it out on him.

Right?

Add to this that he had been feeling under the weather since the very moment his alarm had sounded that morning, a killer headache feeling like it was drilling into his skull and nausea that had kept him from eating any breakfast.

Yeah, today is not a good day to be Matthew Casey at all.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the doors of the cab slam shut. He looks around him to see that he is the last one on the rig. Squad had arrived before them, having already returned to their usual spot of the squad table. Deciding it best to just get it over with, Casey hangs his coat on the rig’s hook and makes his way over. He is met with rowdy laughter from that direction, and it’s clear that Severide was in the middle of one of his epic stories.

‘-and then the guy just fell over, flat on his face. You should’ve seen it!’ The table erupts in laughter once more. Casey calls Severides name to get his attention. The lieutenant doesn’t even do as much as glance in his direction before continuing his story. ‘So there I am, man down and still a large portion of the night to go. I know I have to do something, and quick.’

‘Really? We’re doing this?’

Without even skipping a beat, Severide delves right back into his story, leaving Casey to just stare at him. He catches the eye of Cruz, who looks awfully uncomfortable and who cannot keep eye contact for more than a second.

Casey sighs. He’d rather just hash it out now, prevent any problems from manifesting before the next call, but it is clear that Severide is not in the mood, and quite frankly, with how he is feeling, neither is he.

‘Fine, have it your way. How about you come find me when you’re ready to actually be an officer, huh?’

That one was too far. Casey knows it the moment the words leave his mouth by the way Tony and Capp are gaping at him with open mouth, but he really can’t push himself to care. Without another word, he puts the rest of his gear away and makes his way over to the break room.

The breakroom is its usual busy self. As Casey makes his way over to the counter, the smell of lunch hits him. It stops him dead in his tracks. It’s just bacon and eggs, but something about that smell makes his stomach turn and his throat close up. He needs a second to take a deep breath.

‘You okay, captain?’

The question comes from Herrmann who is standing behind the stove, handing a portion of food to Kidd. ‘All good,’ Casey assures the two of them. It’s clear that neither of them is buying it. Kidd looks at him with a frown, but quickly scurries away when she sees his glare. ‘Really,’ Casey states, a bit more force behind his words this time. Herrmann is still looking at him with that “I’m a father of five and know when I’m being bullshitted” look of his, which Casey counters with a mischievous grin that costs him more energy than he is willing to admit. ‘I am just worried about your cooking skills, or lack thereof. That’s all.’

All sympathy immediately leaves Herrmanns face. ‘It’s about lack of respect,’ he rants as Casey starts piling lunch items onto his plate. ‘As a lieutenant, I should not be made to do such chores as lunch duty. As a matter of fact, I’ll be taking this up with the chief himself!’

‘Take what up with me?’

As Boden strides into the room, Herrmanns face immediately falls. ‘Err, sir, I was just saying… I mean… I don’t mean no disrespect, but I…’

As Herrmann tries to weasel his way out of this one, Casey makes his way over to the end of the table. The crossword he’d been working is still there, just like he’d left it. The room is abuzz again, this time with people going at it with Herrmann, but Casey doesn’t feel like joining in. He puts down his plate, not even having brought a fork as he has no intention of eating any of it.

He gets to work on his crossword, tuning out all the voices around him. It’s starting to get hot in here, but he attributes that to the raised thermostat. Mouch had been complaining of cold lately, which Otis had called him an old man for. As a result, the two had been at it for weeks, changing the temperature whenever the other one wasn’t looking.

He conveniently overlooks the implications of feeling hot whilst also feeling nauseous and having a splitting headache.

As he stares at the crossword, he notices how letters are swimming in and out of focus. Was that clue for seven across? Where even was seven across? He could’ve sworn he’d seen it, but it seemed to have vanished. And hadn’t he just filled out twelve down? Why were those squares still empty?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Casey gets up from his chair. This is clearly of no use to him right now. He should probably just get started on his report of the previous call already. Yes, that was what he was going to do. There’s no doubt in his mind that Boden is going to hear about it soon, so he might as well get a head start on it.

Leaving his plate and his teammembers behind, Casey makes his way over to the bullpen. The walk seems to take longer than it should, however, every step reverberating in his head. His nausea also seems to be getting worse the farther along he goes, but he blames that on the lack of food. He should sneak into Ambo 61 when Brett and Foster weren’t looking to snatch a few glucose tablets to get his blood sugar up to par.

Content that he has figured out a solution to his problem, Casey marches into the bullpen, heading straight for the printer. The report paperwork is used frequently, so with a few pushes of buttons the machine immediately starts spewing out his required papers. Whilst he waits, Casey looks around, wondering briefly where all the staff had gone. He should not have done that, however.

The bright lights of the bullpen, combined with the loud whirring of the printer and the flashing of computers and phone switchboards makes his nausea skyrocket. It comes over him like a wave, and if it wasn’t for the printer he’d be on his ass right there and then. The lights start to blur, and he is pretty sure the room is spinning.

Not entirely sure how to handle the situation, Casey’s eyes land on the blue office. His getaway! Without giving it a second thought, Casey stumbles across the bullpen into the blue office and pushing the door shut behind him. The slam of the door is enough to finally tip his headache into full-on torture, and he falls to the ground in his efforts to get to the trashcan. He reaches it just in time to start throwing up the meagre contents of his stomach.

\------

Kelly Severide is well and truly done with a certain captain Casey, thanks very much. It had been a while since his friend had pulled rank. Hell, they lived together! You’d think that would mean something, but apparently to Casey, it did not.

Getting out of the shower, his face looking like a thunderstorm, Severide makes his way over to his locker. When he passes Casey’s, the urge to flick water on it is very strong. Not that it will do anything, but it would be like a personal statement. He resists the urge, but only barely.

As he is putting his uniform back on, he hears a sound behind him. He instantly stills his movements. He knows who it is. And if there is one thing he is currently not in the mood for, it’s a lecture.

‘You don’t even know what I’m going to say. Hear me out?’

It’s as if she can read his mind. Sighing, Severide turns around as he pulls his shirt over his head. Across from him stands Stella, arms crossed and hip leaning against a locker. God, she’s hot when she does that. These thoughts nearly get the better of him, but he stops himself from going over and kissing her just in time. She is going to convince him to talk to Casey, which he does not feel like doing.

‘You’re doing it again.’

Severide raises an eyebrow and spreads his arms. ‘Doing what? Can’t a man take a shower anymore?’

Without as much as a flinch, Stella stares right back at him. ‘That is not what I meant, and you know it.’

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before Stella pushes herself off the locker and makes her way over to Severide. She lays her hands on his chest, careful to avoid his gaze. ‘He might be your superior officer, yes, but he is also your roommate and your friend. You might not agree with how he handled things, but I’m sure he was just doing what he thought was best. Doesn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt? At least?’

Severide takes a deep breath, looking down at Stella’s long fingers. She’s right. Of course she’s right. When has she ever not been? Not that he will ever tell her that, though. He looks up to see her big eyes staring back at him sweetly. He nods, if only slightly.

The largest smile breaks out on her face, and she leans in to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss, making him long for more. He raises his hands to her face, trying to deepen the kiss, but she uses her hands on his chest to push him away gently and to break away. ‘Come find me when you’ve talked to him,’ she says, before turning and walking away. Severide swears she exaggerates the sway of her hips in moments like this.

‘You suck!’ he calls after her. The only response he get is a chuckle before he is well and truly alone in the locker room. He turns back to his locker to think. Stella’s right. Casey and him might not always get along professionally, but they are friends first. He should go over there and see what his roommate has to say for himself. And he better have a damn good reason for the way he acted at the scene today.

Nodding to himself as if to confirm his decision, Severide closes his locker and makes his way over to the officer’s quarters. Only when he arrives, he is surprised to see both offices empty.

‘Are you looking for Casey?’ Bretts voice is coming from one of the cots. Severide nods, and the paramedic sits up on the bed to get a better look at him. ‘I saw him go towards the bullpen earlier. He seemed agitated.’

And just like that, Severides forgiving mood disappears. Casey went to the bullpen. Bodens office is attached to the bullpen. This can only mean one thing, and Severide does not appreciate people going over his head.

Without even thanking Brett, he stalks over to the bullpen. He cannot believe Casey’s audacity. Here he is, trying to make up with the captain, and all he does is go straight to the chief? Well, if this is how Casey is going to behave, then no way is Severide going to be the one to extend an olive branch. And whilst he’s at it, Casey can expect the silent treatment when they get back to the apartment. He is officially done with today.

Without even stopping to knock, Severide storms into Bodens office. ‘Casey, I can’t believe that you would---’

‘Severide? What’s gotten into you?’

Boden looks up from his paperwork, shooting his lieutenant a questioning glare. Severide takes in his surroundings, and notices that the office is empty apart from his chief. And, now that he thinks of it, the door to the office was open, which would be kind of weird if Casey had been here to rat him out.

‘I’m looking for Casey and thought he’d be here.’

At this, Boden takes off his glasses and puts them on his desk. ‘And why exactly would captain Casey be here? Is there anything I must know about?’

Crap.

It was clear that Boden did not know anything, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Severide needed to backtrack, and fast. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, really. We got into an argument about furlough allocation, and he said he’d be taking it up with you.’

‘Decisions about furlough are up to Casey, and you know this.’ Severide nods, clasping his hands behind his back and pretending to be the epitome of innocence. ‘Don’t drag me into your petty arguments. You are both officers of this firehouse. For the love of god, act like ones.’

Taking a few steps back towards the door, Severide lowers his head. ‘You’re right, chief. Won’t happen again.’ Then, without another word, he turns around and makes it back into the bullpen.

So Casey didn’t go to Boden to rat him out, that much was clear. But if he wasn’t with Boden, where had he gone?

Severides eyes fall on the printer, and some all too familiar papers sticking out of it. He picks up the incident report paperwork, and the first thing he notices is that the pages are cold. They’ve been here a while.

His irritation makes way for concern. Casey never leaves anything in the printer longer than he has to. He’s gotten it into his head that any inconvenience towards the civilian staff, no matter how slight, is like the worst thing that he can possibly do. The same goes for any inconvenience towards firefighters, actually. Matthew Casey is just too considerate for this world, and his attempts to not be a burden to anyone often infuriate Severide.

He is far from infuriated now. If you’d ask him later what told him to go look in the blue office, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. A gut feeling, perhaps? Either way, something was telling him that that is where he should look. So, putting down the paperwork, he makes his way over to the blue office and opens the door.

The first thing that hits him is the smell of bile. The second thing that hits him is seeing Casey, slumped on the floor, honestly looking more dead than alive.

‘What the hell, Casey?’ is all Severide can exclaim before dropping down next to his friend. Casey isn’t moving, and for a single second fear takes a hold of Severides insides. There is not many things Kelly Severide is afraid of, but seeing one of his brothers on the floor like this, limp and possibly not breathing, takes his own breath away. But as he moves to put his fingers to Casey’s neck to find a pulse, the blond’s eyes shoot open and he lifts his head. Before either man can say anything, Casey starts gagging over the trashcan that is positioned right next to him. Nothing is coming out, though, and it is quite clear that he’s been at this for a while.

When he’s done, Casey slumps back and mutters something. Looking around for something to wipe Casey’s face with, Severide doesn’t hear a word his friend is saying. Giving up on the search for a towel, he crouches back down and puts a hand on Casey’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t quite catch that.’

‘’Mfine,’ Casey mutters, a little louder this time. Severide snorts.

‘If you’re fine, then I’m the pope. Can you sit up?’

At this, Casey pushes himself up off the floor, and for a second it seems to be going well. But Severide can see it on his face before he even actually falls, and it is this that allows Severide to catch Casey before he falls flat on his face. ‘Heyheyhey, you with me, Casey?’ Casey hums something in return that was probably supposed to be a word but sounds more like a garbled mess. Severide puts a hand on Casey’s forehead, and he curses.

‘That’s piping hot. Damnit, Casey!’

The other man instinctively flinches and tries to get away from him. This sight makes Severide feel like he’s just been punched in the gut. With an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he says ‘Casey, I’m going to get you to bed, okay? To do that, I need to get you up, though. Think you’re up for that?’

A muttering sound that Severide can only interpret as _there’s only one way to find out_ is all the confirmation Severide knows he is going to get. Careful to stay in close vicinity of the bin in case Casey is going to be sick again, he puts his arms around the other man and hoists him up to a standing position.

It’s clear that whatever’s been going on with Casey has taken a toll on him, and getting upright is proving to be too much. The moment he is standing on his own two feet, his eyes roll into the back of his head. Supporting his weight for the second time in only a few short minutes, Severide makes sure that Casey doesn’t fall over.

Carrying what is pretty much dead weight at this point, Severide and Casey stumble along into the bullpen. The staff is still on their teambuilding exercise, but that doesn’t mean the chief isn’t there. The moment Severide and Boden lock eyes, the latter gets up and rushes to the door.

‘Severide, what the hell happened to him?’

Severide wants to shrug, but thinks better of it at the very last moment. Instead, he settles for an awkward gesture. ‘Don’t know, chief. Found him like this in the blue office. He’s burning up, and he’s been taking Tylenol for days thinking I wouldn’t notice, so I’m assuming it’s a bout of flu. I should get him home, but I don’t think he’s ready for a drive yet.’

Boden nods, clearly already thinking about his next steps. ‘Yeah, that sounds wise. I’ll replace Casey for the time being, and I’ll tell Cruz he’s acting lieutenant.’ Seeing that Severide is about to protest, Boden waves his objections away. ‘He’s going to need someone to look after him, Kelly. Just get him home.’

Severide huffs, but he knows what the chief is saying is right. Before, he could’ve asked Dawson to stay with Casey, but that wasn’t exactly an option anymore. And as his roommate, that pretty much left just him.

‘Alright, big guy,’ he says to the semi-conscious man next to him as he adjusts his grip, ‘How about we get you to bed, hmm? You going to work with me or just hang there? Yeah, I kind of figured. Alright, let’s do this.’

With that, the two officers stumbled more than they walked through the hallways, trying to get to the officer’s quarters.

\----

Something is wrong. That is all that goes through Casey’s head the moment he wakes up. He is no longer in the blue office, and he has zero recollection of leaving that place. Come to think of it, he has zero recollection of deciding to fall asleep either.

He opens his eyes, albeit slightly, and the light that meets them makes him groan. Shutting his eyes closed immediately, he vows to not do that again. Even without his sight, he tries to determine where he is from his other senses.

It is hot wherever he is. Extremely hot. His shirt is sticking to his body, and his collar feels like it is choking him. He lifts his hands to his throat to undo a button, but they are shaking too much. In the end, he lets them drop again with a huff.

He orders himself to think. What could have happened that ended up with him being here, wherever here was? He’s laying on something that feels like a bed, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Many places have beds. Even bad places. He takes a deep breath, and he immediately wishes he hadn’t. A wave of nausea comes slamming over him, and he dry-heaves a couple of time. Nothing is coming up though.

Every time he tries to focus, his mind wanders. That is probably because of the pounding headache threatening to take him under. Being careful with his breathing, Casey strains his hearing to see if anything stands out, but other than traffic there is not much going on.

Exhausted by the simple task of trying to figure out where he is, Casey slumps back a little bit more in the pillow he is laying on. He has no way of telling where he is, and odds are he didn’t get there of his own free will. So, the question remains: who put him there? Thoughts of arsonists and scorned victims fill his mind, and he has a hard time keeping the panic at bay. If someone truly got to him and kidnapped him, someone was bound to notice at some point and come get him.

Right?

That wasn’t something Casey could wait for, though. If he has truly been taken, he needs to get out of here and fast. But even he is lucid enough to realize that that’s easier said than done in his current state. Maybe he could…

Whatever he could do will probably be lost forever, because in that very moment an alarm goes off. It is incredibly loud, and Casey wishes immediately that he was strong enough to cover his ears. He can barely make out the warbled voice of a lady, followed by the sound of people running. Something nags at the back of his brain, but all he can think is that he needs to get out. Alarms are bad. Alarms have a reason. And he doesn’t really feel like finding that reason out.

With an inhuman strength he didn’t know he possessed, Casey pushes himself up into a sitting position. His head is swimming, and he is afraid he is going to topple over any moment, but he somehow manages to keep it together. Opening his eyes to just a squint, he looks for the closest wall. He finds one across from him, which he is pretty sure he can make. Pushing himself up from the bed, he all but falls towards the wall. His hands meet cool glass, and for a moment he basks in their cold and allows his hands to cool off.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. Now is not the time, Casey, you’ve got to focus. Get out of here, worry about cooling down later. He blindly reaches to his right, and finds a door handle by dumb luck more than anything else. At his third try of pushing down the handle, he manages and the door flies open. The room that lies beyond is a strange one. There are bright lights and beds, but it seems absolutely deserted. Casey is getting major hospital vibes.

Wait. A hospital? Is that where he is? That would for sure explain how crappy he’s feeling. But if he’s in the hospital, wouldn’t there be doctors and nurses to check on him? And wouldn’t it have been harder to just walk out? And what did that alarm mean?

Casey stumbles across the room, and he is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure looming up behind him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’

Crap. They’ve found him.

\----

Severide comes back from the locker room with a comfortable shirt and some sweatpants to see Casey halfway through the bunkroom. His emotions getting the better of himself, Severide booms, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’

The man in front of him flinches like he was just physically attacked, and spins around on the spot. The movement proves to be too much for the swaying man, and Casey starts falling. Throwing the clothes into the quarters without taking another look, Severide rushes over. Luckily Casey had managed to catch himself on one of the low walls.

When he looks up at Severide, the fear on his face makes place for absolute relief, quickly followed by concern. The rapid shift of emotions alone are enough to give Severide a whiplash. ‘Sev’ride? You h’re? But. Alarm. Gotta --- out?’

Severide frowns, barely able to make out what Casey is saying. Whatever it is though is clearly of great concern to the other man, and Severide places Casey’s arm across his shoulder and his own across the other firefighter’s waist. ‘You’re fine,’ Severide assures Casey. ‘You’re fine. Nothing’s wrong. We’re at the firehouse, remember? You got sick and you passed out.’

Now it’s Casey’s turn to frown. As they make their way back to Casey’s office with excruciatingly small steps, it is clear that Casey has no clue what is going on. ‘House?’ he asks, in an almost child-like voice.

Severide grunts from having to support most of the other man’s weight, and Casey flinches again. Severide vows that some day they’re going to have a talk about whatever that is all about, but today is not that day. Right now, all he cares about is getting his fellow officer into bed and keeping him that way.

‘Yes, house,’ he says, attempting to keep Casey talking. A talking Casey seemed to be a somewhat cooperative Casey. ‘The alarm went off because Truck and Ambo had a call. Something about a person in distress in a restaurant, shouldn’t be a big deal.’

The concerned pit in his stomach becomes even bigger when Casey takes an awful long time to respond. By this time they’ve already entered the office, and Severide gently sets down Casey on the bed. Closing the door behind them, he picks up the clothes he had tossed into the room carelessly.

‘Call,’ Casey repeats. ‘No big deal.’

His words are somewhat clear this time around, and Severide decides to just take this as a win. Laying the clothes down on the bed, he kneels down in front of Casey and starts untying his shoelaces. The two men are quiet as Severide works, and it isn’t long before Casey is wearing a clean set of clothes. Severide drapes the uniform over the desk chair, and scrunches up his face at how wet the shirt feels. It almost seemed as if Casey had gone swimming, he’d sweat so much.

He turns around to tell Casey to go to sleep, but it’s not needed. Casey had already laid down on his own, his body curled up in a tiny ball. Severide feels sorry for him for a second, but there’s nothing he can do. He awkwardly hovers in the room for a second, before opening the door and setting out to leave.

‘He had a kid.’

Casey’s voice is soft, almost too soft to understand. ‘What was that?’ Severide says, his hand still on the door handle.

‘Passenger side had a kid. Saw his wallet.’

And just like that, any remaining resentment washes away. ‘Aw hell, Casey,’ Severide mutters as he pulls the door closed. Making quick work of his own shoelaces, he kicks off his boots and nestles himself on the bed with his back against the wall. This is foreign territory, and he’s feeling quite uncomfortable if he’s being honest, but it cannot compare to the discomfort his friend must be feeling. So, putting his own feelings aside, he puts a hand on Casey’s back and starts rubbing it in comforting circles.

Severide quickly notices the absolute knots Casey’s back has wrought itself into, and he spends the next couple of minutes trying to get them to loosen up a bit. He guesses it’s working, as Casey lets out a contented sigh.

‘M’sorry,’ Casey mumbles. Severide has to strain to understand, but it’s not like there are many other things for him to focus on right now, so he hears anyway. ‘Was an ass.’

‘Nah,’ Severide concedes. ‘You are the captain just doing what you think is right. I should’ve listened.’

And with that, they sit in a companionable silence, Casey just trying to ride out the waves of nausea and Severide waiting until he can take him home. At some point Brett comes in to check up on Casey and attaches an IV to get some fluids in him. She assures Severide that Casey should be good to go once the bag is empty. As Brett makes to leave, Severide grabs her hand to stop her. He hopes his eyes convey what he is feeling, because he’s said enough emotionally charged things today for a lifetime, but somehow she seems to understand perfectly. She nods and smiles before carefully closing the door behind her.

His phone dings, and Severide has to shift awkwardly in his position to release it from his pocket. It’s a text from Stella. It just reads three words. _Told you so._  
He looks up from his phone to see her standing in the bunkroom with a shit-eating grin. He rolls her eyes at her and makes a crude gesture that can only be interpreted in one way. She smiles, before putting up her phone at him and walking away. When he looks down, he sees another text. _How about we continue where we left off in the locker room after shift?_

Shaking his head in disbelief, but knowing he wouldn’t want it any other way, Severide smiles as he looks down at his passed out best friend. It’s clear that nightmares are plaguing him, and even with the IV-bag almost empty he doesn’t have a fun couple of days ahead. But at least Severide is there to help him through it and be there for him in any way he can. After all, what are brothers for?

Today is not a good day to be Matthew Casey. But at least it is a little better than it was before.


End file.
